been a victory in a civil war, without even a euphemistic foreign label
such as Julius Caesar had pinned onto his own victories over Roman cit-
izens. It is tempting to imagine that whoever composed or commis-
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[To view this image, refer to
the print version of this title.]
Figure 37:
The final section of the Fasti Barberiniani (with missing sections completed from an earlier manuscript copy), listing triumphs from 29 to 21. The first four lines list two out of the three triumphs celebrated by Octavian in 29 bce. The contrast with the Forum list (Fig. 36) is striking. The standard formula is different. There is no dating by year, and no mention of the father or grandfather’s name or the office held. Instead we find the formula triumphavit palmam dedit (“triumphed, dedicated his palm”). No less different is the style and consistency of presentation. Here spellings are not uniform (usually, for example, dedit, but once dedeit). And there are numerous other variants which may be significant or merely careless: palmam dedit, for example, is omitted for Octavian’s second triumph, line 4—a mistake, or maybe he did not on that occasion “dedicate his palm.”
sioned this particular triumphal list was attempting to “clean up” trium-
phal history by finessing Actium out of the picture.
But the end of the Barberiniani springs the biggest historical surprise.
For the last triumph to be recorded here is not that of Balbus but of
Lucius Sempronius Atratinus for another African victory in 21 bce. It is
possible, of course, that there was originally another slab (in which
The Triumph of History
305
case—unless we are to imagine his as the only name on the next install-
ment—the list would almost certainly have continued beyond Balbus).
But the way the inscription trails off, in what must count as a shoddy
piece of the stone carver’s art (hence perhaps the idea of a mere error
over the Actian entry), might suggest that the list was here trailing to its
close. At least, the degeneration of the text seems neatly to capture the
end of the traditional celebration, albeit one triumph too soon.33
If the Forum text had been lost and we had only the Fasti
Barberiniani, we would tell a rather different version of the Augustan
changes, or at least of their chronology. But all the different narratives
we have been looking at lead to a more significant point: that no single
history of this ritual ever existed; that ancient writers told the story of
the triumph and explained its development and changes in more—and
more varied—ways than modern orthodoxy would allow.
THE MYTH OF ORIGINS
The origin of the triumph continues to be one of the fetishes of modern
scholarship. This is not just a question of the “primitive turn” in many
historians’ attempts to explain individual elements of ceremony (the rib-
ald songs, for example, or the phallos under the chariot). There is also a
scholarly preoccupation with the history of the very earliest phases of the
triumph more generally, which has produced volumes of learned discus-
sion and ingenious speculation. In this context, it may seem, at first
sight, to be going against the grain—even cavalier—to have postponed
the particular topic of triumphal origins to the end of this book and to
deal with it (as I shall) so briefly. The pages that follow aim to redefine
this search for a beginning and, at the same time, to justify the amount
of attention I have chosen to give it.
So when and where, on the conventional view, did the whole thing
start? Unsurprisingly perhaps, a number of competing theories have
been proposed—and for most of them there is no firm evidence at all.
One common view is that the triumph was not the earliest victory cele-
bration at Rome; that the dedication of the spolia opima, and perhaps
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the ovatio too, were “native Roman” pretriumphal celebrations; and that
at some point in Roman history these were overlaid by the triumph
proper. Exactly which point is a matter of further and greater dispute.
One bold recent contribution to the debate, in linking the ceremony of
triumph to the practice of erecting commemorative statues to successful
generals (who, with their red-painted faces, played the part of the statue
itself in the procession), argues that the form of the “classical triumph”
was not established until the late fourth century bce.34 Others have
stressed the direct Greek input into the form of the ceremony (a neat fit
if you imagine that the Latin cry Io triumpe—and so the word triumphus
itself—comes straight from the Greek thriambos).35
It is, however, the idea of Etruscan influence (or Greek and/or Near
Eastern influence mediated through Etruria) that commands the widest
support. This is backed up not only by various statements in ancient
writers who traced specific aspects of the triumph back to the Etruscans
but also by the ritual’s destination at the Temple of Jupiter Optimus
Maximus on the Capitoline, which was, according to tradition, founded
in the sixth century bce by the Tarquins, the Etruscan kings of Rome.
How could you have a triumph before you had a temple for the proces-
sion to aim for?36 In addition, traces have been found in Etruria that
seem to reflect a ceremony similar enough to the Roman triumph to
count as its ancestor. A few Etruscan paintings, stone sculptures, and
terracotta reliefs have been taken to depict Etruscan triumphal para-
phernalia or ceremonies. For example, a precursor of the toga picta has
often been spotted in a well-known painting from the François Tomb at
Vulci: it shows a man (named, in Etruscan, Vel Saties) draped in an elab-
orately decorated purple cloak, reminiscent of a triumphing general
(Fig. 38).37
But, beyond that, a series of sculptures are claimed to offer some
glimpse of the Etruscan triumphal ritual itself. A little known funerary
piece, probably of the early sixth century bce and probably from the
Cerveteri, is supposed to show an Etruscan triumphing general in his
chariot, carrying a scepter and with a crown held over his head from be-
[To view this image, refer to
the print version of this title.]
Figure 38:
Vel Saties from the François Tomb, Vulci. The interpretation of this scene is
very puzzling. The small figure in front of Vel Saties may be his son, or a servant. The bird may be a plaything, or connected with divination. And what is the relationship, if any, between this magnificent purple cloak and the toga picta of the triumphing general? The date is no less uncertain. The tomb was originally constructed in the fifth century bce, but the paintings have been dated variously between the fourth and first centuries bce.
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[To view this image, refer to
the print version of this title.]
Figure 39:
Front panel of a sarcophagus from Sperandio necropolis, Perugia, late sixth
century bce. The procession includes animals, armed men, and (on the right) prisoners bound at the neck. A homecoming from war?
hind (as in some Roman triumphal images); and a slightly later sixth-
century sarcophagus from Perugia depicts a triumphal procession of